


Bad Decisions Made Quickly

by tehhumi



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Not Beta Read, The work title is the pairing name fyi, pausing to reflect would not be in the spirit of the pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-10 22:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20535371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehhumi/pseuds/tehhumi
Summary: When fleeing Doriath, Turin meets a handsome elf.When scouting Doriath for angles of attack, Celegorm meets a handsome man





	Bad Decisions Made Quickly

**Author's Note:**

> Neithan is Turin, 'the wronged', name courtesy of Tolkien.
> 
> Bainon is Celegorm, my attempt to translate 'the fair' into Sindarin.

A dark haired man sat alone at his campfire. 

“Who goes there?” He cried, drawing his sword, “Show yourself! I warn you, I learned to fight from the Marchwardens of Doriath!”

An elf with eyes that were nearly aflame emerged scarcely ten feet from the clearing’s edge. “You have good hearing for a Man.”

“And you are skilled in woodcraft for a Noldo.”

“That I am.”

“Why come you to my campfire?”

“You asked me to show myself. Otherwise I would have happily continued on my way.”

“But what are you doing so close to Doriath in the first place?”

The elf shrugged. “Hunting, and scouting. My kin may travel these lands soon. What concern are the borders of Doriath to a Man?”

“No concern.”

“What is your name, by the way? There are few who the Iathrim trust with their knowledge even among their own kindred. I am very surprised they taught a man.”

“I am Netihan.”

The elf snorted. “If that’s so, your parents are worse at naming than mine.”

“Who dares insult my family?”

“I call them only as bad as my own, though I’m sure there are many who view that as a deadly insult. I am known as Bainon.”

“That is an arrogant name.”

“If you think it ill-suited, you can call me something else.”

Neithan paused, then admitted, “It is not ill-suited.”

“Thank you. Now since your shouting has certainly scared off all the game for miles, will you put down your sword that I may join your fire?”

“You may.” 

Bainon set down his bow and quiver before sitting on the ground as comfortably as if he were in a palace. “I rarely see sole travellers these days, and rarer still are they Men.”

“There are orcs about. I have been told that all the lands south of Anfauglith were safe to roam once, but that was long before my time.”

“True enough, but orcs can be evaded if you have the skill. I find the quiet in the woods without a dozen shouting arguments well worth the danger.”

“I believed so as well, but now that I have left I feel myself missing the sound of another voice.”

“Well, I am happy to share your fire tonight. And if you wish to go among strangers, I saw a group of Men two days west of here. They looked rough, but most groups would welcome a handsome young man with skill in woodcraft.”

“How many are they? Is it a village, or merely a group of soldiers? Do they have word from the north?”

Bainon shrugged. “I rarely speak to any on my travels, and I stayed too far away for them to spot me. What news do you seek though?”

Neithan considered for a moment, then admitted “I grew up in Hithlum. My mother and sister still dwell there.”

“I have no news of Hithlum, for all my kin there were slaughtered by Morgoth years ago. I wish you good fortune though, and to be reunited with your family this side of the sea.”

“This side of the sea?”

“With neither failing terribly or dying gloriously. It should be easier for you without a curse breathing down your neck.”

Neithan said nothing in response to that, but his face grew drawn and pale.

“Oh. Drink some of this then,” Bainon said as he pulled a small flask from his belt.

“What is it?” Netihan asked as he unscrewed the cap.

“Liquor made from berries that grow in the gardens of Vana. It is very potent; one sip and you feel pure joy.”

Neithan took a swig from the bottle and handed it back. “My thanks, I had not known such a thing existed.”

Bainon took a drink himself before closing the bottle. “Little was brought here from Valinor, and less still remains. But such things are made to be used and reveled in, not stored up for a future we may never see.”

“Eat and drink for tomorrow we may die,” Neithan quoted. “That is a refreshing viewpoint, coming from an elf.”

“I have often been accused of being a strange elf. Given the ones who do the accusing, I take it as a compliment.”

“Oh? In what other ways are you strange?”

“As you noticed, I am an unusually good tracker and exceptionally beautiful,” Bainon replied.

“Not humble, though.”

“Pah. Humble and polite and retiring, all of that is boring and slow. I think the reason they say to wait centuries for marriage is because talking through a dozen layers of indirection takes that long to know anyone’s interested.”

“I admit I have always found the claims that elves only have one lover for all eternity to be odd, but if it takes so long to communicate interest perhaps it is simply a practical matter. As a Man though, centuries of celibacy sounds very unpleasant.”

“I wouldn’t know myself.”

“You married young?” Neithan could not keep the disappointment from his voice.

“Oh no, I just decided to cut through the social pretenses. Most unmarried elves don’t actually throw a punch if you proposition them, and the ones that do I can outfight.” 

Neithan thought about that for a moment, then walked quickly around the fire. When he reached Bainon, he bent down and kissed him on the lips.

Bainon kissed back, and shortly they found better ways than their clothes to keep warm.


End file.
